


"what are you playing at?"

by cheriecolas



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, mentioned transphobia, trans!chuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheriecolas/pseuds/cheriecolas
Summary: What happens when you've got protectors assigned by the government, but one of them is near violently transphobic and assigned to protect you? Kinda sucks, especially when you fall in love with him.





	"what are you playing at?"

“Well, my dear _Charlotte--_ ” The words rolling off baddie #47’s tongue stung just as much as the last. Before he had the chance to struggle against his restraints some more, to cry out in _fear_ or _anger_ or _pain_ , he was greeted by an animalistic growl. He knew _exactly_ who it was, but he would genuinely prefer that the plan for him was to be ripped apart by a pack of hungry wolves.

“It’s _Chuck_ , you commie dipshit.” The asset lifted his battered head to peer through matted strands of hair in the direction of the Major’s voice. _No. Fucking. Way._ His first assumption was that he had been drugged at some point and just didn’t notice, but by the fact Sarah’s gun had lowered a good foot, he had _definitely_ heard Casey right. He didn’t know whether to be shocked or angry, but decided very quickly on option B. With a renewed vigor, he thrashed against the ropes around his wrists and ankles, trying to remember _anything_ he had been told about escaping binds and mindlessly shouting _“let me go, let me go!”_.

Inevitably, the bad guy was subdued. Shot in a leg, or a hand, or a heart-- Chuck never bothered to look. Getting held captive by someone was already a _lot_ to digest, looking at them bleeding out on the floor would only contribute to more hideous nightmares. He let his head hang as he waited for Sarah’s gentle hands undoing tight restrains, asking if he was alright, massaging this new wounds, telling him he was okay. When that gentle energy didn’t show as someone tugged roughly at the ropes, he cracked open an eye and found himself staring into the cold demeanor of a man he kept _very_ far away for a _very_ good reason. Having no other choice but to watch Casey’s hands release him into his same suffocating life, he felt that anger from before bubble up again in his brittle chest. It fizzed and crashed against his ribcage with full force, wanting nothing more than to lash out and claw at his ugly _face_ and ugly _hands_ and ugly _chest_ until he could look at his _heart_ and and his _brain_ and dissect them to maybe, just _maybe_ understand. Instead, a few words crawled up his throat and out of his mouth in a croak.

“What… the _fuck_ was that?”

His handler hesitated, grunted, and went back to loosening the restraints. Chuck wriggled only weakly, but it forced the man to look up at him. He looked tired _._ He looked fucking _tired_. _Fuck_ John Casey for that. He didn’t _get_ to look tired at him for this, or _anything_. “What was _what_ , Bartowski?”

“What was that… _‘it’s Chuck, you commie asshole’_ thing, or whatever?” He blew some hair out of his face, forcing himself to look Casey in the eyes. They seemed to ripple with an electricity the asset had never seen before.

“What did it _sound_ like? I corrected him.” The agent turned back to the ropes, freeing Chuck’s wrists. “Don’t you like that shit?” Chuck _swore_ he could feel his restraint cracking.

“Oh, _sure!_ I do, but only when it’s _fucking genuine._ ” If his mouth weren’t painfully dry, he would’ve spit on the man. It _truly_ was the least he could do.

“... _What_ was that, Bartowski?” Casey’s tone said he _dared_ Chuck to repeat himself. _Challenge motherfucking accepted._

“You’re a transphobic piece of shit, and that whole name thing was _purely_ fucking performative. For who? I don’t even know, because _I_ know. _Sarah_ knows. If _you_ didn’t know, I’d say I was surprised, but that level of stupidity is a pre- _fucking_ -requisite for what you think.” Now that he had mobility within his arms, he sat up and leaned back, rubbing the rope marks on his wrists. His eyes scanned the room to find Sarah. She was staring at him with her mouth gaped. They had always _talked_ about him snapping one day, but neither of them ever really thought he had it in him. He figured she didn’t know whether to be proud or scared. He wasn’t too sure, either.

“No wonder I don’t fuckin’ try with you.” Casey found a way to be even rougher as he untied the ropes at Bartowski’s ankles, clearly trying to finish as quickly as possible so he could go shoot photos of terrorists or do whatever managed to bring down his stress levels.

“See, your fundamental problem is that treating me like a fucking _human_ isn’t something you can just _try at_ . Didn’t want to have to be the one to give you this _rude awakening_ at the ripe age of 42-- at least I assume, because your ideals came _straight_ from the 1940s-- but clearly _someone_ had to update you.” As soon as he was fully unbound, Chuck used his feet to push the chair back with a painful echoing metal screech against the concrete of the floor. It left a space between them that highlighted the drops of blood that had been pricked and scratched and collected from him while he waited for his _magical government assigned saviors_. What a great fucking life Chuck Bartowski lived.

**Author's Note:**

> ty and I keep making AUs for chuck and not finishing any of them but take a snippet of our trans!chuck concept. sarah is supportive and casey. isn't. for a long while. but chuck is gay and his standards are low and casey could say "women are people" and he would fuck him. the bar is on the floor


End file.
